They were indissoluble.
It was as if their hands were bound with celestial bronze, their lips attracted to each others like an electromagnet. Ever since that kiss underwater, their chemistry had been multiplied. Positively.
But no one person can have that much good luck.
Sure, they had just fought in a war. Sure, they had just seen some of their best friends die. And sure, they had been to hell and back (literally), but those things apparently didn't count in the book of the Moira.
Because he had been taken. Taken from her grasp, taken from her love, taken from her kiss. Right when things started to go their way, the fates turned the tables.
Because Heroes have worse luck than you can imagine.
She found him that first day, anger in his eyes, hand-in-hand with another daughter of Athe-, ahem, Minerva.
She fought with her whole life for him, and to ohsopoor Gwen's dismay, she won.
When she finally, finally, got him back, she double-plated their hand chains.
Unfortunately, at first, he had no idea why he was chained to this girl. Who was she, anyway? Where was Gwen?
She never let him out of her sight. She didn't care about what he thought, as long as they were together, it helped ease the pain.
Slowly but surely, he began to remember. They stole kisses when heads were turned. Their hands found each others under tables.
He regretted ever forgetting this girl. She regretted ever letting him.
Their love was back. And no one, no one, could take that from them ever again.